


Part of the Pack

by elistaire



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-11
Updated: 2011-11-11
Packaged: 2017-10-25 23:31:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elistaire/pseuds/elistaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan brings a little mutant in need of help to the Xavier mansion, then he decides to stay.  But to stay, he needs to secure his place within the pack, and there are already two alphas on-site that he needs to deal with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Part of the Pack

The house was on fire, and Logan could see a young girl trapped on the second floor.

“Fuck,” he said to himself, and then plunged into the burning mass of plywood, drywall, and overheated brick.

The girl was at the window, too frightened to jump. Logan dashed through a wall of flame, feeling most of the hair on his body sear away, and he pulled his jacket off. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart,” he told her. “I’ll get us out.”

“Stay away!” the little girl cried. It was then that Logan realized that the floor under her feet was on fire, and that she wasn’t burning. Mutant, he realized. Probably a firestarter.

“I ain’t scared, darling’. Now, come on.” He wrapped her in the jacket and picked her up, cradling her. The jump wasn’t a long one, but chances were he’d break bones. He jumped anyway, cushioning the girl’s fall with his own body. They landed with a crushing thud, and the girl’s weight against his chest took all his breath away.

“I’m so sorry,” the girl said, her eyes huge, and her small hands shaking as she tried to comfort him with little patting motions. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Logan brushed her hair away from her face as he waited for his bones to heal. “I know you didn’t, pum’kin. I know.” People were starting to crowd around, offering help, saying they had called an ambulance and the fire department, and as soon as he was able to stand, Logan picked up the girl and spirited her away. The burning house made the air reek of smoke and stink for miles.

“Got any family, sweetheart?” he asked her as he ran.

“No,” the girl said. “That was my foster family’s house. I didn’t mean to do it, I promise.”

“I know,” Logan told her again. She was a sweet looking kid, with big brown eyes and a pixie-face. She couldn’t have been more than nine. “I think I know where to find you some help.”

He’d turned down the offer, but the two mutants who’d come by the bar looking for him last year had left a forwarding address.

~~~

The place was more like a castle than anything. Logan sniffed the air as he approached it. He’d stolen extra clothes for Matilda, since sometimes in the night she incinerated them. Now they were at the gates and Logan hesitated.

He’d wanted to just turn the girl over to them and then get back to his own life, but pangs of guilt were scudding across him. He couldn’t just dump her. What if the two mutants turned out to be dangerous?

“Is this it?” Matilda asked. She’d been a true sweetheart, for just a little kid. She wasn’t loud, she did what she was told, and she held her tongue.

“Yep. This is it. Let’s go in.”

They were only halfway down the drive, with the house still looming large and wide, when a man came walking down. He was walking fast, with an intense look on his face, and Logan recognized him from the bar.

“Hello!” he said. “I heard you coming. How extraordinary!” He stopped to crouch down, an expression of delight aimed at Matilda. “Really? Fire? From nothing? What an incredible little girl you are.”

Matilda’s face broke out into a smile and she glanced up at Logan, as if to ask permission, and he nodded. She flung herself into the man’s waiting arms and he hugged her. “You’re most welcome to stay, as long as you like.” He looked over Matilda’s shoulder. “You also, Mr. Logan.”

“You bet your ass I’m stayin’.” Logan scowled. He really didn’t like telepaths.

~~~

There were quite a few others in the house, but given that it was so large, it still felt cavernous and rang with a hollow empty sound. Being inside made Logan’s skin crawl, so he kept to the gardens as much as he could.

There were several women present, and he was glad of it. It had given him a rash to think he might turn Matilda over to a bunch of men he didn’t know. Logan had seen far too much of the world to be that trusting.

“Will you be staying long, Mr. Logan?” asked a pretty, pale girl with big blue eyes that Logan was pretty sure went by the name Raven.

“Don’t know yet,” he said. He was outside in the rose garden, though there wasn’t a rose in evidence, just short spiky sticks in the ground, and he was trying to enjoy a cigar.

“Charles told me that you rescued Matilda from a burning building.”

“Yep.”

Raven smiled at him, as if she was very used to taciturn people and they didn’t bother her a wit. “That was very brave of you.”

“I have my moments.”

“Of course.” Raven tilted her head, listening to things on the inside that Logan couldn’t hear. “Charles needs help with dinner. Will you be staying?”

Logan narrowed his eyes at her. Always with that question. “At least long enough for dinner,” he said.

She smiled at him and left.

He smoked quietly for a few more moments. He’d been here most of a week already and it all seemed on the up and up. It was Charles and Raven’s home, and everyone here was a mutant of some kind. They’d had some sort of excitement last year that no one particularly talked about, except in veiled comments, and it had taken Logan the better part of an afternoon to scare the entire tale out of the red-headed screamer.

But now he knew that a terrific battle had been fought down in Cuba, and Lehnsherr—the stone-faced one who looked like he housed the mind of a man gone mad—had done the nearly unthinkable. He’d raised a submarine from the ocean’s depths, he’d killed a nearly unkillable enemy, and he’d stopped a whole passel of missiles from landing on top of the group’s heads. In all the fuss, he’d nearly managed to kill the other one, the telepath with the shining telltale eyes. But the guy had managed to survive, and was getting along only a bit worse for the wear. Apparently he’d been a centimeter or so away from permanent paralysis.

Logan considered his cigar and then put it back in his mouth and puffed on it.

If he’d just heard that story alone, he’d have said that the one to worry about was Lehnsherr. The man was cracked and broken, and one hard shove from falling into an abyss that he probably couldn’t ever climb out from.

But Logan had prodded the scrawny little screamer into telling him the whole deal. How Lehnsherr was smitten, practically devoted, to Xavier. And how it was _Xavier_ that had mentally held the asshole enemy while Lehnsherr had killed him with a fuckin’ coin through the brain. That Xavier had _controlled_ people on the ships and avoided nuclear war, and that afterward, he’d just about wiped every single mind on every single ship to forget.

Now that was fuckin’ scary.

The problem with staying around people that powerful, Logan knew, was that it was dangerous to just depend on their goodwill. He needed more than goodwill. He wasn’t yet part of this pack. He didn’t know his place. More importantly, the others didn’t know where he fit in, either.

Logan considered his options. He had two major, powerful alphas managing to co-exist, and if he stayed around for anything longer than the rest of the week, Logan was going to need to secure his position.

He pulled again on his cigar. After dinner, he’d have to decide if he wanted to stay or not, and then which alpha he’d tackle first.

~~~

Logan sniffed around the door of the study. He paused to listen, and could hear both the alphas inside. Charles Xavier. Erik Lehnsherr. He could detect the faint odor of alcohol, and hear the clicks of what he knew had to be chess pieces.

He still wasn’t sure he wanted to stay, but he’d been unable to figure out a better way to decide his position in the scheme of things than to confront both of them at once. If he took on one or the other, since they’d already established dominance between them, he risked their turning on each other. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to ruin this group, he just wanted to end up as high on the hierarchy as he could go.

Suddenly the door opened and Charles stood there. “You’ve been skulking out here for the last twenty minutes, Mr. Logan. Is there something you need?”

Fate—or at least a well aware telepath—had decided his course of action. “Yes,” Logan said, with a faint growl. He placed a hand in the middle of Charles’ chest and pushed him back inside the room. He closed the door behind him and locked it.

“Mr. Logan?” Lehnsherr was standing now, hands in front of him and ready to do damage. His voice was steady, but it implied imminent danger.

Logan gave Charles a wolfish grin and a wink, promising with his expression that he wasn’t here for violence, and moved past him to Lehnsherr.

“Time to put up or shut up, Lehnsherr,” Logan said.

“What--”

Logan wrapped one hand around Lehnsherr’s neck and pulled him in, and licked at his neck, taking his earlobe into his mouth.

“Logan!” Lehnsherr said, his body tightening against him, but nothing metal came flying and Logan took that as a good sign.

“Oh,” said Charles from behind him, and Logan immediately knew that some delicate telepathic finger-flapping had to have already happened. “I see. Really, Mr. Logan, it isn’t necessary. To…to bind us. We’re more than happy to have you stay.”

Logan bit down on Lehnsherr’s ear just enough to make the man flinch, and then he released him and spun around to catch Charles in his arms. Really, these two were so funckin’ easy. Logan caught Charles in a straight-on kiss, dipping him like he might a lady he’d been dancing with, and Charles’ balance went out from under him. These two were seriously powerful mutants, but neither of them had a clue what do with an opponent that wasn’t out for blood. Besides, Logan could smell the pheromones in the air now. Lehnsherr had _liked_ the attention, and so had Charles. Easy as pie.

Logan released Charles slowly so that he slid down to the floor, laying there and blinking up at him.

“Charles?” Lehnsherr was behind him, and Logan knew better than to try the same trick there. Lehnsherr was tough as nails, and wouldn’t give up his balance without a wicked retaliatory swipe, and Logan didn’t want to draw blood, his own or theirs. He didn’t want dominance through knuckle-bruising, broken-limbed fighting. He wasn’t here for that. Logan dropped down to the floor instead, on top of Charles and plundered that sweet mouth again.

“Tell him you want this,” Logan said. “Tell him he’s included.”

“Erik--” Charles said when Logan released his mouth, but Lehnsherr was a bit faster than Logan had anticipated, and he was already on top of them. Logan reached up for the front of Lehnsherr’s shirt, and rolled. He expected Lehnsherr’s reaction, and Lehnsherr gave as good as he got. They thumped and rolled their way ten feet until they hit the legs of the nearest table. Logan had managed to end up on top, and he straddled Lehnsherr’s hips and leaned down to lick at his throat.

“Put up,” Logan said as he scraped his teeth along Lehnsherr’s collarbone, and the man surged beneath him but didn’t buck him off, “or shut up.”

“This is insanity,” Lehnsherr said. “You don’t need to do this.”

“Says you,” Logan replied. Logan knew better. He’d tried to incorporate himself into groups before. Never quite a pack constructed like this one, but he knew. There was no better way to insinuate himself than this, other than the slow march of time, and Logan was not a patient man. Not when the fresh scent roiling off the both of them was so invigorating, so inviting.

Logan ran his hands down Lehnsherr’s chest, to press low on his abdomen, and a flare of scent came off the man. Arousal. “That’s more like it,” Logan said. He couldn’t help but find that a flash of desire had ignited in himself. These two were quite pretty. Worth spending the time for a second or third look. It hadn’t been a hardship to decide to tumble the both of them into bed.

“Charles,” Lehnsherr said, a low moan threaded in his voice. Was he pleading for Charles to save him, or lamenting the loss of his stoic reserve meant only for Charles to overtake? Logan didn’t really care. He pressed himself, length to length, along Lehnsherr’s body, grinding down, and wrapping his hands around to the back of the man’s head. Logan’s thumbs were pressing up on the rounded jawbone and now there was access to all that glorious stretch of neck, and Logan went in, biting and licking, and finally, adding not-so-tender kisses.

“Logan, please, this isn’t necessary,” Charles said, trying one more time. He’d come closer, kneeling next to Logan, one hand on his chest, trying to gently push him off Lehnsherr, and Logan realized his mistake.

Lehnsherr was easy. The man reacted to force and pressure, and physicality. Charles was all mental.

Logan kept his balance over Lehnsherr’s hips, never breaking contact, but he pulled his head around to recapture Charles in a kiss. He latched one arm around his back and the other behind his head, and he bit down on Charles’ lower lip, though not enough to bleed.

Charles struggled for a moment and then allowed himself to be pulled. He had two choices, Logan figured. Use his telepathy, or not. If he did, Logan was lost. There wasn’t anything he could do to stop Charles, which was why the man was the top dog around here. But he didn’t, and Logan kept kissing.

When he finally broke away, and Charles dragged in a breath, Logan grabbed his wrist and brought it down to Lehnsherr’s chest, forcing it to stay there, and then he grabbed one of Lehnsherr’s hands and held it firmly on top of Charles’. “I don’t have time to seduce the both of you,” he said. “Especially when neither of you wants the seducing.”

Charles opened his mouth to protest and Logan shook his head and freed one hand to put it over Charles’ mouth. “No talkin’, now there’s a good boy.”

Charles’ eyes grew huge.

Beneath him, Logan could feel Lehnsherr’s breathing hitch. It was actually going to be this easy, wasn’t it? The two of them, with more power than they knew what to do with, and neither of them would stop him from kissing their breath right out of their lungs.

“I can smell you both,” Logan said, keeping his voice low. “And I know what you want, and that neither of you is afraid of me. And if you say no, which you certainly could, I will leave in the morning. I don’t stay where I don’t have a place.”

Charles twitched like he meant to protest and Logan pushed his hand with more force against his mouth.

Logan grinned at him. Gorgeous, stupid, brilliant man. He had only to lean back and he’d be free to talk, but no, he knew how to play. Beneath him, Logan could see a considering light come into Lehnsherr’s eyes. He wasn’t truly trapped, either, just momentarily pinned down. In a way, this had been like an unscheduled wrestling match. Boys will be boys.

“My rules,” Logan said. “I ain’t nobody’s boss, but I aint’ nobody’s tail-wagging mongrel. Got it?”

Beneath his hand, Charles nodded assent.

Lehnsherr’s attention flicked from Charles to Logan in the space of a heart beat and he leaned up, even with Logan sitting on his hips, and _licked_ at the notch in Logan’s collarbone. “I guess you’ll be staying then,” he said, and the next thing Logan knew, he’d been flipped over on his back, and suddenly he was a member of the pack.


End file.
